


my sweet lord

by WeeBeastie



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie
Summary: i really wanna know youi'd really wanna go with youi really wanna show you lordthat it won't take long, my lord(hallelujah)





	my sweet lord

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve had “My Sweet Lord” by George Harrison on a loop in my head for DAYS and I finally gave in and wrote something with it. I intended it to be more porn-y but it’s me so of course there are feels, too. There also ended up being a fair amount of religious imagery/symbolism because of the nature of the song that inspired this piece. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! <3

Silver isn’t used to needing other people, not really. 

His experiences in his early life taught him that people are not to be trusted; regardless of what they say to your face they’ll just as soon kick you as kiss you. 

So it’s with a good deal of confusion and more than a little angst, then, that he finds himself needing Flint. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it began, but here he is now, in Flint’s too narrow bed as the sun rises over the sea outside, watching Flint sleep. Flint is lying on his belly with his arms around his pillow, mostly quiet with occasional bouts of snoring or muttering. 

He shouldn’t be so attractive this way, and yet. And yet. 

Silver reaches out to touch the warm bare skin between Flint’s shoulder blades, imagining he can almost feel his freckles under his fingertips - they tingle. 

“Flint,” he rumbles, his own voice thick with the remnants of sleep. “James.”

“My lord?” Flint murmurs back, evidently still in the throes of a dream. Something in Silver’s chest goes tight at the thought of what - who - Flint is dreaming about. 

“No, just me,” Silver replies after a moment, with a self-deprecating chuckle. 

Flint turns his head towards Silver and opens one eye just a crack, hardly a sliver of green iris visible. One corner of his his mouth turns up in a small, crooked grin and then Flint’s reaching out for Silver, pulling him into an embrace. He goes, eagerly. 

“Good morning,” Silver says as Flint buries his face in his neck. The feel of his teeth on his skin makes Silver feel instantly and thoroughly awake. Suddenly he’s brimming with ideas. “I was thinking, if you agree, that we might-”

“Shh. Talking,” Flint murmurs against Silver’s throat, gnawing on him gently. Delightful. 

“What’s - _ah_ , yes! - wrong with me talking?” He’s breathless already. God, but he needs this. 

“Too early for it.” Flint throws the covers off them both then and sits up, looking down at Silver as though he’s a feast to be devoured. He touches Silver’s cheek, his gaze gone momentarily soft in the way that makes Silver feel at once honored and nervous to be the one Flint is looking at. 

Then Flint is sliding down the bed, and lifting Silver’s legs up to rest on his shoulders (hesitating not at all when he touches Silver’s left leg, bless him for that), and- _oh_. 

“Ahh, god!” Silver gasps, arching his back and pushing towards Flint, needing his tongue deeper inside. He complies, and it’s bliss. 

“No, just me,” Flint teases him a moment later, lips moving against his skin. 

“Please,” Silver sighs, reaching down to rub the palm of one hand over Flint’s shorn head and silently lamenting the loss of his auburn locks. They were just so good to pull. 

Then he can’t form coherent thoughts anymore because Flint has redoubled his efforts and is driving Silver to such heights of pleasure as he’s never experienced outside of his time with his captain. By the time Flint pulls away and eases his legs down again, Silver is so hard it hurts; he’s leaking onto his stomach, his whole body drawn tight. 

“ _Please_ ,” he says again, through gritted teeth this time, looking up at Flint. He’s backlit by the early morning sun that’s flooding the room, and Silver would swear there’s something of a halo around him. A holy glow, almost. Fitting. 

Flint stretches out on top of him and kisses him and kisses him, working one hand in between their bodies to stroke both of them at once. The feeling of Flint’s dripping cock pressing against his own, the friction of Flint’s rough palm on his tender skin, Flint’s tongue in his mouth - it’s more than enough to send him hurtling towards his climax. He grabs at Flint, clutching his biceps and digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise as he comes, throwing his head back and shouting at the timbers of the ceiling. Dimly, he feels and hears Flint coming, too, his seed branding the skin of Silver’s belly and chest, marking him as a man owned. 

“Hallelujah,” Silver says hoarsely, laughing at himself, as they recover. Flint makes a noise that sounds like an agreement and moves off Silver, lying next to him with his head resting on his chest. Silver slides one arm around his shoulders, ducking his head to inhale the dusty, familiar scent of Flint’s hair. Most of it may be gone, but at least it still smells the same. 

“John?” Flint speaks his name softly after a comfortable few moments of silence. 

“Mm?”

“I want to know you,” Flint says, haltingly, and Silver glances down at him, feeling his brow furrow into a frown. 

“But you do. You have _known_ me many, many times, right here in this bed. As well as in any number of other locales,” he jokes. He’s well aware that isn’t what Flint meant. 

Flint is quiet for another long moment, some of the ease between them slipping away, tension creeping into the space it left. 

“Someday, perhaps,” Flint says eventually, apparently unable or unwilling to press Silver on the subject in this moment. He dozes off again using Silver for his pillow, his head turned to one side and his eyelashes glowing copper in the light of the morning. 

When Silver returns to sleep himself, he dreams of blinding sunlight and a lover like the sea itself, like a god, like no one he’s ever had before, with these words churning through his mind: _I want to know you._


End file.
